


Why Don't You Stay the Night?

by bobthebobking



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alcohol, Come Eating, Explicit Consent, F/M, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Nipple Licking, No Condoms, Oral Sex, Post-Cell Games Saga, Scratching, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, but they dont get drunk, im so sorry idk how to write anything, in this house we love and appreciate yamcha, yamcha is a good uncle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobthebobking/pseuds/bobthebobking
Summary: Yamcha had become a near-constant presence and pillar of support in the Son household after the Cell Games. Does he know how much his help means to Chichi?





	Why Don't You Stay the Night?

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic so please be kind ;; this was born of just me being thirsty for some yamchi but i needed that buildup yaknow kndkfgndk this is v self-indulgent
> 
> the idea of yamcha helping chichi and her family after the cell games is like, one of my favorite scenarios n gets me really emotional KNDFKGD n yamcha and chichi accidentally falling into some sort of romance along the way is just the lil cherry on top <3 dunno if i was able to convey any of it decently, but oh well! u gotta write a bad fic before u can write a good one c': 
> 
> please let me know if i should add or remove any tags!! not looking for constructive criticism on my writing, just stuff about tags and formatting please since i'm not entirely sure how ao3 works!
> 
> hmu on tumblr or twitter @bobthebobking

The day had been fairly uneventful. Pleasant, enjoyable even, but undeniably normal.

 

Chichi’s father had come to visit in the morning- he’d called some days prior lamenting to her how long it had been (three weeks) since he’d gotten to spend some quality time with his daughter and spoil his grandsons. It didn’t take much more than that for her to invite him over for a family day and, while you’re at it, why don’t you take the boys for a sleepover afterwards?

At some point mid-afternoon, Yamcha also decided to make an appearance. No warning beforehand, but this was to be expected from the man. Ever since Goku had decided to stay in Other World indefinitely, Yamcha had become she and her family’s biggest support. Initially, he had simply wanted to check in on Chichi and Gohan, to make sure they were holding up okay after everything they’d been through and lost in the Cell Games. Just like the rest of their friends had eventually done at one point or another. But with Yamcha?

One visit became two, two became occasional Yamcha-made dinners, dinners became day-long trips, getting Gohan out of the house, taking him to some amusement park or arcade as a well-deserved break from his studies, and so on and so forth. It was nice, having someone other than herself to dote on Gohan... Yamcha quickly became a common presence in their household. He’d even went and gotten a job in construction after deciding he wasn’t going to stay away, not wanting Chichi to worry about expenses or forcing Gohan to neglect his studies in favor of work.

 

Chichi couldn’t _not_ tell Yamcha about her pregnancy. With the news came an unsurprising flash of sadness in the man’s wide eyes as he took in the information and what it meant, immediately followed by the most enthusiastic congratulations she had ever received. He'd leapt off the couch, pulled her off her feet into a twirling hug, nearly smacking her into a table. Gently placing her back on her feet, he rambled on about everything he could help with, about how she wouldn’t be able to stop him from helping out if she tried. Chichi laughed at his antics, unable to keep the grateful smile from her face. She knew Gohan would likely help her with anything she asked, he was such a wonderful son, but knowing she had another adult, a friend to lean on melted away the worry she unknowingly held in her shoulders.

The announcement of her pregnancy led to longer, more frequent visits from Yamcha; he couldn’t keep himself from fretting even though Chichi was barely even showing yet. He had been around Bulma while she was pregnant with Trunks, shouldn’t he know better? But she supposed it was just in his nature to worry about his friends. She appreciated it, really.

As months came and went, she relied on Gohan and Yamcha’s help more and more, Gohan taking over her usual chores and Yamcha fixing things around the house and preparing meals, even making extra for them to reheat when he couldn’t be there. Of course, Ox-King also visited regularly, but his presence wasn’t the near-constant Yamcha’s had become.

The birth of Goten led to a team effort among Chichi, Gohan, and Yamcha in caring for him. Yamcha had made it clear to Chichi and Gohan early on that if he wasn’t there and they needed him, they could call him and he’d be there as soon as he could. Chichi had only made use of this offer a handful of times, but each call, Yamcha showed up within the hour without complaint. This surprisingly diligent behavior continued, months passed, and suddenly it had been over 4 years since the Games.

 

Yamcha’s appearance wasn’t unwelcome- If anything, his absence had been the oddest part of the day so far. He had come wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a gray, long-sleeve shirt. Over the years he'd kept his hair trimmed short, no shorter than it had been during the Games, but he no longer spiked it up, instead letting it rest naturally. Seeing Ox-King, he happily offered to make dinner for everyone, as if he hadn’t already planned on doing so before getting there, judging by the bags of groceries he carried. After a bit of smalltalk, saying hello to the boys, and giving Chichi, who stood in a pair of blue skinny jeans and a purple sweater, a quick one-armed hug, Yamcha made his way into the kitchen with the large sacks of food to get his cooking started.

From the kitchen, Yamcha could hear Goten excitedly telling Ox-King something he had taught the boy. The sound of the young boy’s voice talking about him in such a positive and sincere way made the man’s heart do a flip, and he found himself unable to keep the smile off his face as he rinsed the mounds of vegetables he’d brought.

Moments like these made Chichi remember how thankful she was for Yamcha’s company over the past four years. With his talent and enthusiasm for cooking, Chichi was able to spend more time with her family. Seeing her little Goten, the spitting image of his father, talking as animatedly and excitedly as a 3-year-old could manage, was something she wouldn’t have wanted to miss for the world. He was so much like Goku: the same wild hair, the same friendly face, the same determined heart...

 

Had she ever properly thanked Yamcha? She’s said her Please and Thank You’s as often as any well-mannered person would, but did she ever say more than that? Would Yamcha even want to hear it? Hear her ramble on about how wonderful a friend he’s been, how wonderful an uncle to her children he’s been, how much she and her boys have come to depend on him? Does he already know? Surely he must have some idea... but then again, he’d always been a bit of a dolt. She let out a soft snort of a laugh at the thought. Maybe she’d talk to him after her father took the boys for their sleepover.

 

-

 

The meal came and went without incident, and as was expected Yamcha’s cooking was delicious. They were lucky Yamcha always made more than he, Chichi, and the boys usually ate, or there wouldn’t have been enough for Ox-King. Goten may still be a baby, but he ate food like a black hole thanks to his Saiyan heritage. The same goes for Gohan- though now that he was well into his teens and quickly becoming a young man, he easily ate twice as much as he had just a few short years ago. It always made Yamcha happy to see his friends enjoying his meals, even after all this time.

There were no leftovers, so while everyone let their food settle and continued chatting, Yamcha began collecting their dishes to begin cleanup. He easily carried stacks of plates, glasses, and silverware into the kitchen and readied some warm, soapy water in the sink. He heard Chichi urging Gohan and Goten upstairs to pack their bags for the upcoming weekend with their grandfather, listing off the essentials and in-case-of-emergencies they should bring as they reached the second floor. Ox-King let out a hearty chuckle at his daughter’s motherly behavior.

A few minutes later, Chichi came back down with Gohan in tow and Goten, along with his bag, in her arms. With a full belly and it almost being bedtime, it wasn’t surprising that he'd passed out. Yamcha dried off his hands with a dish towel, coming out to the living room with his sleeves still rolled up to see the boys off. Chichi was double checking that Gohan had everything he needed and running through her mental checklist of what she had packed for Goten, only for Ox-King to gently assure her that everything’s fine, how many times have we done this before? causing Chichi to sigh and pass Goten and his things off to Gohan, giving him a stern ‘Keep an eye on your brother, alright?’ plus a kiss to each of their foreheads and a murmured I Love You. She then stretched up onto her tiptoes to reach her arms around her father’s neck for a hug, receiving a forehead kiss of her own in return.

Ox-King then looked over to Yamcha, who had been standing in the kitchen walkway.

“Thank you for the delicious meal, Yamcha! Your cooking is always such a delight!”

To which Yamcha replied with an embarrassed “Thanks, I’m happy you liked it!” and a light scratch to the x-shaped scar on his cheek. Yamcha then looked at Gohan, “Make sure you have a fun weekend, you hear me?” imitating the tone of a stern parent, but immediately breaking down into the easy smile that hardly ever seemed to leave his face.

“I will, Uncle Yamcha, don’t worry. I’ll tell you about it when we get back!” and with a light wave, he, his grandfather, and Goten were out the door getting settled in the car. Yamcha headed back to the kitchen sink, continuing with the dishes.

The sound of dirt crackling under tires and the soft click of the front door signaled Chichi coming back inside and, not soon after, joining Yamcha in the kitchen. She rolled up her purple sleeves some, grabbed a dishcloth, and began drying the dishes Yamcha had already wiped off. This had become routine some years ago, along with Yamcha’s soft humming of whatever pop song had been repeated one too many times at work that day.

As they settled into their usual rhythm, to Yamcha’s humming, to the clink of Chichi stacking the dried plates, Chichi remembered the thought she had earlier in the night. She looked up at Yamcha, who was lightly bobbing his head to whatever music he continued to hum, looked back down to the spoon in her hand, and cleared her throat loudly enough to get Yamcha’s attention, but soft enough that it didn’t sound angry. Hopefully. She had difficulty gauging that sometimes. Her scarred friend slightly turned to her with an open expression. So she didn’t come off as angry. Good.

 

“You know, Yamcha... I don’t think I’ve properly told you how much I appreciate your help.”

The open expression turned into confusion, “It’s really no problem, Chichi, it’s just dishes?”

This earned him a light smack on his bicep. “I mean _all of it_ you ass!” a soft laugh and apology from Yamcha, a huff from Chichi. “These past few years, you could have been doing anything else, but you chose to stay and help us. I was thinking about it earlier and I just wanted to say thank you, really.” She didn’t look back up at him, but she could feel his gaze.

“Heh, well, I definitely wasn’t going back to baseball anytime soon. Helping you and the boys has been a lot more rewarding than being overpowered at baseball ever was... it’s nice.” Chichi glanced at him as he finished his thought, being greeted by his warm, genuine smile for a moment before he turned back to the sink, now humming something jazzy. The warmth Chichi felt prickling her cheeks was surprising, but not unwelcome... she tried to figure out what that meant as she continued drying the silverware.

 

-

 

Once all the dishes were cleaned, dried, and put back in their places, Yamcha and Chichi made for the couch and turned the television on to whatever random late night show was on. Yamcha had also grabbed one of the beers he’d brought along with the rest of the groceries. He’d offered one to Chichi, though she declined, opting for a bit of red wine instead. The TV was just for some background noise, for the most part; the two martial artists filled the room with their own chatter and laughter well enough for a few hours. Yamcha was finishing telling a story from work, one leg crossed over the other, right arm on the back of the couch and the other gesturing with his beer can, one cushion-length away from Chichi.

“... so I get there, and it turns out he had ordered all the wrong doors! What’s more, he hadn’t even gotten any of the bolts or hinges for them anyway! I asked him what he expected me to do, and he was all, ‘Would you come with me to return the doors?’ like. Buddy. I get that not everyone knows everything about doors but _Kami_ , could you not have put a little effort into some research?”

Chichi was snickering from her end of the couch, both legs pulled up to her chest with her back against the armrest. “So did you end up going with him?”

“Of _course_ I did. I wasn’t gonna leave him hanging like that, I felt so bad for the dude. Looked like he was gonna cry if I said no, I swear.” punctuating the sentence with one last sip of his drink, Chichi’s soft laughter fading into a comfortable quiet. As he swallowed, his eyes wandered to the clock hanging on the wall and coughed in surprise. “Jeez- it’s gotten late! Puar’s gonna be worried about me if I don’t get home soon. I’ll get out of your hair.” He made a move to get up, but Chichi’s sudden loose grip on his arm kept him seated. “Chichi?”

“... Why don’t you stay the night?” She hadn’t exactly planned on asking, but she couldn’t say she regretted it. Being here with Yamcha, laughing together with a bit of alcohol in their systems... when had she last felt this good? This carefree? Yamcha had pulled out his phone to check for any missed calls from his best friend.

“I wouldn’t want to-” he looked back at Chichi with an apologetic expression, which quickly turned to something between confusion and surprise, “... impose?” he finished weakly. Chichi shuffled closer to him, with a determined glint in her eye.

“You know there’s always room for you here, Yamcha,” she murmured as she moved her left hand from his forearm to the juncture between his shoulder and neck, tracing the hairline behind his ear with her thumb. Chichi felt Yamcha shudder under her palm, and watched him instinctively wet his lips, watching her, unsure of what to do, if he even _should_ do anything. Chichi was sure, though- she’d made up her mind before she’d even asked him to stay the night. She held his gaze for a moment, making sure he was paying attention, and stretched up to be a bit closer to Yamcha’s face, noticing how he leaned in too. The audience laughter from the TV seemed far away; she only needed to hear what the man in front of her would say to her next question.

 

“Can I kiss you?” It came out as a near-whisper.

 

“Absolutely.” Yamcha breathed, moving to close the gap between them, closing his eyes as he felt Chichi bring her other hand up to his jaw, tracing the lines of his scar. He placed his right hand on her hip, and hooked the other under her thigh, pulling her to fully straddle him with a sigh. His hands soon found their way under her sweater, gently exploring her soft abdomen as Chichi let one of her hands drift to the back of Yamcha’s head, carding her fingers through his soft strands. She let her nails lightly scratch his scalp, making him shiver and groan into the kiss, trailing feather-light touches up her sides in reply, earning him a soft hum.

They continued this languid kissing - all gentle touches and curious hands - until one of them, maybe both of them, shifted in a way that forced a soft moan out of Yamcha. All gentleness flew out the window then, replaced by the eager click of teeth, the harsh grip of fingers, nails digging into skin, the rushed tugging off of shirts, and the harsh grind of two people just now realizing the depths of their attraction to each other.

 

-

 

Soon enough, the two thirty-somethings found themselves moving against one another on Chichi’s bed, both now shirtless and nearing impatience. Chichi lost the ribbon keeping her hair in a bun somewhere between the couch and her bedroom door, leaving her hair splayed out on her bed as Yamcha worked his lips, tongue, and teeth on a sensitive spot near the base of her neck. She had a firm grasp of Yamcha’s hair, holding him down so he wouldn’t stop, letting out a breathy moan each time the scrape of his teeth set her nerves alight.

Eventually Yamcha pulled away from her neck, only to move down her body and latch onto one of her nipples instead. The wet, warm pressure that tugged at her breast drew out a whimper from the back of Chichi’s throat. Yamcha repeatedly dragged the flat of his tongue across the hard nub, lightly sucking on it after each open-mouthed kiss. As he focused his lips on one breast, his hand gently massaged the other, swiping his calloused thumb around the areola. After a bit he switched, moving his mouth to her other side and massaging the breast he had abandoned with his opposite hand in much the same way. This attention had Chichi gasping, the air of the room repeatedly cooling the skin Yamcha’s mouth left each time he let up for a gulp of air. She kept arching her chest into Yamcha’s mouth, not that she thought it would help any- all she knew was that she wanted _more_ and _please_ and _Yamcha_.

When Chichi’s heaving chest began making it difficult for Yamcha to hold his position, he backed off of her again, out of breath, lips wet with his own saliva and red from all the kissing. Again, he moved further down, curling his fingertips in the belt loops of the jeans she still wore, looking up to her, questioning, as he gave a light tug. That patient yet hungry look he aimed at Chichi made her stomach swoop, returning it with a nod and  _Yes_  and her trembling fingers trying to undo the front of her pants. When she finally managed it, she lifted her hips off the bed so Yamcha could hook his fingers under the waistband of both her jeans and underwear, slowly tugging them off, then finally pulling them off her legs altogether and tossing them to the floor.

 

Yamcha took this moment to really look at Chichi in a way he never could have imagined doing before tonight. He slowly trailed his eyes from her head down. Her long, black hair untied and slightly mussed, fanned out beneath her head on the mattress. Her soft breasts, slightly flattened against her chest from their weight, nipples up and aroused. The visible muscle in her arms that revealed her true strength, flexing and shifting as she moved her arms up and behind her head. The pale expanse of her stomach, lightly spattered with stretch marks left over from carrying her two children, with a welcoming, doughy section of fat at her lower abdomen and hips littered with more prominent stretch marks, just begging for a pair of strong hands to grab hold. Further down, a splash of black hair led to her groin, though she currently had her legs pulled together, preventing him from seeing her fully. Her thighs had a light layer of hair, her calves clean-shaven. Yamcha couldn’t help licking his lips, earning him a light huff of laughter from Chichi. When they made eye contact once again, she cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘You next.’

The still half-clothed man made his way off the mattress, making a bit of a show of unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down with an exaggerated sway of his hips, striking a pose along with a dorky grin once he was bare- forcing an amused laugh out of Chichi. When she stopped laughing she took the opportunity to analyze Yamcha just as he had done to her. He wasn’t quite as bulky as he had been after preparing for the androids, but in no way was he out of shape. The man hadn’t an ounce of fat on him, all chiseled abs and sturdy muscles in his arms and legs that could easily break diamond, but also had a soft appearance to them, one that let you know you’d be safe and comfortable in his embrace. His underarms had tufts of black hair, with his forearms and legs both covered in a layer of the same, short hair. Yamcha had a well-maintained happy trail leading to his groin, something she had noticed after he lost his shirt earlier but didn’t pay much mind to. Now though, seeing her friend displaying himself for her like he was being paid for it, she couldn’t get enough of it. She needed him like she needed air.

 

Chichi slowly brought a hand down to her clit, with her gaze still on Yamcha, teeth playing with her bottom lip, letting out a shaky exhale through her nose as she teased herself. Watching this, Yamcha gave himself a few firm strokes before approaching the bed again. Almost automatically, Chichi opened her legs to make room for Yamcha between them. He crawled on top of her, giving her a hard kiss as he lowered his hips to her own, basking in the friction her abdomen provided as he thrust against her, dragging out a moan from the both of them.

“Kami, Chichi- you’re so gorgeous... everything about you just- fuck,” he mumbled against her lips between gasps and moans.

“You aren’t so bad either, Yamcha,” she said breathlessly as she reached down to lightly trace the man’s length with her fingertips, making him gasp and muffle his moan against the corner of Chichi’s mouth.

“Chichi can I-” a gasp, “can I fuck you?” he asked lowly, attempting to steady his voice but unable to hide the clear tremor of excitement.

“Yes, please-” she immediately replied. Yamcha gave her one more hard kiss before sitting back on his feet. Chichi could feel the wet traces of precum on her stomach when he pulled away.

“Do you have...?” he didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Chichi had rolled over and crawled closer to one of her end tables, hurrying back to him and pushing a bottle of lube into his hands. “No condoms?”

“I’m on the pill, it’s alright, just- fuck me. Please.” Her words rushed out of her mouth, trying to speed things up. Yamcha let out a breath of a laugh at her insistence, not that he could blame her.

Yamcha slathered some of the lube onto his fingers, initially only pushing one into her inviting folds, quickly realizing Chichi was ready for more than that. He slowly worked two fingers in and out of her, teasing her clit with his other hand. His movements drew several breathy moans from the woman’s throat, and he felt her thrusting herself onto him in an attempt to bring him deeper, her feet planted firmly on the mattress.

When he finally took his fingers out, Chichi looked ready to protest before she saw Yamcha coating his dick with the slick substance, and let her head drop back onto the mattress, calming down. She immediately got restless again when Yamcha held one of her legs up out of the way and began thrusting himself between her lips, not entering, just teasing her entrance and her clit with the length of his dick.

“Are you ready for me~?” Yamcha cheekily asked, knowing full well Chichi would throttle him if he waited much longer.

“Yamcha I swear to Kami if you-” she cut herself off with a low moan when she felt the man slowly push the head of his cock into her. Chichi felt her toes curl instinctively at how different it felt from Yamcha’s fingers- it’d been so long since she felt anything like this.

A very soft “Fuck...” from Yamcha signaled when he’d fully sheathed himself inside of her. He paused his movements, waiting for Chichi to give him the go ahead, soothingly rubbing his hands up and down her thighs. After a few moments of heavy panting between them, Chichi hooked her legs around Yamcha's torso with a soft whimper. He took this as his OK, and began his steady movements in and out of her.

As he slowly picked up the pace and force of his thrusts, he gripped her soft hips to better angle himself. Soon enough, Chichi let out a sharp cry and a gasp of “ _There!_ ” when he finally hit her most sensitive spot. He continued aiming for that area, turning whatever Chichi tried to say into a garbled mess of vowels. He managed to make out something that sounded like _Harder_ , so he released his grip on Chichi’s hips in favor of leaning down close to her, chest to chest, mouth to her neck once again, one arm propping himself up and the other gripping her thigh. It was almost too much for her, hearing his growls and gasps of exertion by her ear along with feeling the things he was doing to her. She moved one hand to Yamcha’s neck, not caring about the deep scratches she was surely giving him, and the other to grab hold of his hair and tug, wrenching a delirious _Chichi_ \- from the man.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Yamcha- more-!” With this plea he let go of her thigh, moving his hand down to her clit, rubbing the nub furiously, easy with how wet she’d become. Chichi nearly choked on the air she was desperately trying to inhale, her thighs tightening around Yamcha, her toes curling at the end of legs that bobbed helplessly behind Yamcha as he pounded into her relentlessly. She soon found herself coming hard and fast, the only noise leaving her mouth a strangled squeak as she tightened, twitching, around Yamcha’s dick, making him cry out against her neck. Yamcha came with a moan not long after, a few more frantic thrusts pushing him over the edge, filling Chichi with his cum.

 

After he’d given all he had, Yamcha gently pulled out with a groan, a soft sigh from Chichi at the new emptiness. He then laid down next to her, the both of them catching their breath. A few quiet minutes passed like this, their breathing slowly evening out, and then Chichi spoke up,

“Ugh. I’m a mess...” as she slowly rubbed her thighs together, feeling the combination of Yamcha’s cum, her own cum, and lube slickening her skin. Yamcha looked over at her.

“I can help with that if you want?” he offered with a tired grin. It only took Chichi a second to realize what he was saying, and she parted her legs for him once again.

He crawled over to her sex, no hesitation in the way he began licking the outer folds covered in her natural lubricant. Chichi laid back with an appreciative sigh, bringing a hand down to run her fingers through Yamcha’s hair. Yamcha hummed at the pleasant touch of her fingers, and used his own to hold Chichi open so he could eagerly lap at her cum-filled hole. The taste of his own ejaculate on his tongue plus the increasingly loud moans above him spurred him on. He buried his tongue into her cunt, trying his best to drag out as much cum as possible. Chichi began pushing herself onto his tongue, so Yamcha used his free hand to hold her still by her hip. This loss of movement caused her to whimper, quietly begging with a murmured _please_.

When he wasn’t getting any more out of her cunt, he switched his attention to her clit, rubbing the flat of his tongue forcefully over it again and again, his nose digging into the patch of hair above it. Chichi’s nails dug into his scalp and he let out a deep moan, looking up to see ecstasy contorting her face and the muscles in her arms straining with the effort of not just yanking Yamcha’s face into her cunt.

A frantic, breathy stream of “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” spilled from her lips, and Yamcha huffed through his nose, teasing her clit with renewed vigor. When she started chanting Yamcha’s name, he knew she had to be close, so he teased her entrance with one of his fingers while still putting pressure on her with his tongue. Not long after, he had her coming for the second time with a broken “m-cha!” hips twitching in his grasp, and his tongue ready to lap up any cum that came out of her.

 

She was soon pushing his head away, having become too sensitive for his continued attention. Once again Yamcha climbed up to lay next to her, wiping saliva and cum from his mouth, his legs splayed dramatically to show off his limp dick in a way that he must have thought was sexy. Chichi glanced at him with a twitch of a smile, noticing the angry welts on his neck that she must have left with her nails, and closed her eyes, getting control over her breathing.

“How was that?” Yamcha asked, eyebrows raised expectantly, a confident little smirk on display.

Chichi pretended to mull it over. “It was decent, I suppose.”

Yamcha was quick with an exaggerated “What!?” going on about how much _effort_ he put into it, how _hard_ it was to be on top, and he only stopped once he heard Chichi’s laughter, smiling about breaking her unimpressed facade.

“I’m just _teasing_ , jeez! Now spoon me, you idiot~” Chichi chided with a big, satisfied grin. Yamcha leaned down to kiss the warm skin of her cheek before settling down behind her, wrapping her up in his strong, comfortable arms as they dozed off to the sound of each other’s breathing.


End file.
